


the dog bites, but we keep him anyway

by Hawkbringer



Series: Hawkbringer's Greatest Hits [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: Antarctica fix-it, Authors Notes left in, Crossover, Gen, Hannibal as mastermind, Homoeroticism, I'm proud of this one, IT HAS AN ENDING GUYS LOOK AT THIS, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Psychological Manipulation, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rough Draft, mashup AU, setting NYC 1980s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Hannibal Lecter has been amusing himself with the NYC criminal underground, pulling strings and nudging people here and there to create more interesting chaos to observe. The murder of The Comedian is nigh, as is, in a separate building, the confrontation we know as Mizumono. Dreiberg interests Hannibal, but he gets to him too late to really influence him the way he'd like to. Still, he's worth having a conversation or two with, since he finds the lost and purposeless Dan so similar to his own Will...
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg & Hannibal Lecter, Dan Dreiberg & Rorschach, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter
Series: Hawkbringer's Greatest Hits [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1357354





	the dog bites, but we keep him anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Will Graham's dogs have eaten human flesh, thanks to Hannibal. I don't THINK Hannibal has yet killed any of them?? Unlike Rorschach and the dogs that ate Blair Roche. Which got me thinking about a mash-up. Both universes are violent enough for it, after all.
> 
> Original writing date: 6th july 2015
> 
> Whoa. Hannibal molding Rorschach into a better vigilante-serial-killer. I mean, he wouldn't quite /kill/. Hannibal perhaps would not manage to strip the man of /those/ morals. Will was fragmented, pieces of him having floating away like meat falling off the bone in a stew. Walter was /contained/. Violently contained, without a social support group in precisely the same way Will was, but having gone the opposite direction, fallen into himself and become even more wrapped up around that. /Intrinsically/ and stably introverted, as opposed to Will's desperate, ceaseless, outward reaching. 
> 
> He is an interesting case to observe, as Hannibal pushes certain members of the NYC underground to be at certain places, doing certain things. Plenty of gang-bangs occur where none of the participants are fully aware of who planned them. 
> 
> (One hilarious conversation, after they meet up but before anyone gets hard, goes, "I thought it was you?" "Wasn't me." And the woman screams, "WELL IT WASN'T ME YOU FUCKING CRAZY BASTARDS," maces one of them in the face and runs off as the would-be gang-bangers just watch, dumb-founded. Steve screams for help, his eyes burning, and no one pays any attention to him. He was the odd man out anyways. Hannibal, watching from the shadows, or some rich person's apartment window, is not surprised that the would-be victim correctly identified the black sheep. He was just that obvious. (And then he turns back to the art gala or whatever thing he's in Manhattan for.)) 
> 
> A good setpiece for this universe would be a single conversation between Daniel Dreiberg and Hannibal. After which, Hannibal decides to murder Dreiberg's father, further freeing him to spiral into vigilantism with no 'moral' compass but the outsiders around him.

It makes him a little sad that he hadn't gotten to the wide-eyed idealist sooner. He doesn't have a chance to /really/ set the righteous indignation free to its fullest possibilities. By the time the Keane Act is passed, his ideals haven't had time to erode far enough to join his partner. Dr. Fell is just a little sad for Dreiberg, in whom he sees so much of Will. 

(So he pays him a second visit, encouraging Dan, in not so many words, to go with a new lock company, one that will be easy for Rorschach to break into. Perhaps Dr. Fell himself is the burglar? No, why do that when he can simply tip off one of the Knot-Tops? It /does/ make me wonder why Veidt killed the Comedian /himself/. I suppose if he knew no one else would be home... It /would/ decrease the loose ends. But Hannibal intended to /leave/ witnesses, ie, Dreiberg, and so it would make sense to disguise his involvement.)

Of course, a few days before this happens, he'd speak with Dan again, mention the rising crime rate or something. 

Dan would stand up and accuse him of /knowing/. Dr. Fell would reply that "I know a great many things, to which specifically do you refer?" Dan messes up his hair and admits to being the second Nite Owl. 

Dr Fell's calm reaction leads them to talk about his glory days for a while, Fell insisting he has no intention of turning Dan over to the police - indeed, he has no evidence that Dan has been /active/ ever since the Keane Act was passed. 

He means it as a subtle jab at the other's manhood, and it lands as intended. Dan does a few stretches before bed and sleeps with one ear open, which is how he hears the lock-pickers a few days later. 

He wishes he could talk to Rorschach as he knocks two of the men out and the other flees. 

He isn't sure where the impulse comes from, but he drags both of them (it is far more difficult than he'd prefer) into the tunnels beneath his house, sets them in chairs, and wakes them up with a bucket of water to their faces. 

He spins his words a bit, but tells them to be on the lookout for Rorschach. "Is it... /you/?" the one blubbers, gasping. 

Dan forces his face into a rictus grin. "Run, and you'll never have to find out." 

They do. Run, of course. And none of /that/ group ever returns to his house after it becomes obvious Rorschach was /not/ the fat man they had encountered. 

Particularly as one of them gets up close and personal with the /smell/ of the real Rorschach, something even the dank, wet, smell of the tunnel he woke up in wouldn't have concealed on the fat man. 

Rorschach gets the message. 

***

When Dr. Fell visits a third and final time, Will is penetrating Hannibal's defensive walls smooth as a needle through flesh; as the final act nears on /their/ story, Daniel's is about to begin. (Mizumono is nigh.)

He speaks so haltingly, hatefully and reverently by turns, of the /stinking/ man that came to visit him in the night, knocking on the wrong door. 

It came from his basement. And it hadn't showered in /months/. 

Daniel spends an inordinate amount of time attempting to explain the olfactory indignity he clearly had suffered, and Hannibal steers the conversation to their exchanged words with a practiced expression of fond exasperation that comes so readily to mind when in the company of this man. 

"He sounds like a man of strong convictions. I believe you do not have many of those in your life." 

Daniel snorts. "Like I'd /ever/ let /Rorschach/ replace my /father/... Oh, hell, I have a loooot of issues, don't I?" He puts his head in both hands, glasses dangling dangerously between his unadorned ring and pinky fingers. 

Hannibal snatches them and slides them carefully onto Daniel's face when the man comes up for air after rubbing his face to disguise the way he smeared away tears. Hannibal is not unaware of the effect he can have on certain men. He is counting on it, actually. 

"Do not let that belief stop you from pursuing good for the world, my dear Mr. Dreiberg." His pleased smirk at the way Daniel's face heats manifests outwardly as something far sweeter. "And do not let this Rorschach character believe he is unwelcome in your house. You have so little contact with the old guard these days. They are all a part of you, no matter who they are now, no matter who /you/ are now. Embrace him." Daniel's eyebrows started climbing. 

Hannibal detests being pushed to such heavy-handed, dramatic tactics, but his analysis reveals Daniel should respond well to them. Make him tear up a little bit, and he'll remember things more clearly. Emotion in this one has a clarifying effect, as opposed to the usual muddling one. 

(Rorschach had only /barely/ responded to logic, after all. Hannibal had suggested he stay far away from Dreiberg, perfectly aware that it would drive the madman into Daniel's arms only after several layers of reverse psychology had been wrapped around the blunt command. Rorschach eventually became aware that he had two choices - go or stay away. And once the Comedian is murdered, that will tip the scale in Daniel's favor. Hannibal is planning to speed Veidt to that conclusion very soon. He is running out of time on multiple fronts, after all.) 

Hannibal's face draws in on itself as though he regretted his choice of words. He allows his face to fall in something approaching regret, looking past Daniel's left shoulder in a transparent bid to appear far from the present. 

"Don't make your mistakes, huh?" Drieberg queries scathingly.

Hannibal starts to smile saccharinely-sweet, but it falls, almost against his will, into something more somber that he recognizes, only after it has done so, will provide a more believable lie. (This is a post-rationalization on Hannibal's part. Sometimes, he /is/ so good his body works before he rationalizes it. Sometimes, his brain is incorrect regarding what it was just thinking.) "I sincerely hope you don't," he intones darkly, forgoing the overly-sappy, /Don't let the important ones get away/ that he'd been planning on. 

Dreiberg has a penchant for melancholy that is unusual in true extroverts. He is unhappy in this life, that is true. But it is because he has more to fear than to gain. Fear never motivated his vigilantism in the past. Hannibal is looking forward to how that will change Dreiberg in the very near future. 

"Who was it, doctor? If I may ask? The one who got away from /you/?"

Hannibal's head lifts, expression clearing into one of unfeigned pleasure. "Oh, he hasn't gotten away from me yet. I'm currently trying to make sure he /doesn't./" He shrugs one shoulder. "We're nearly at a crossroads ourselves, you see. But," and here he turns his head to pensively study the cabinets. "This will be our /first/ great test. For /you/ and the masks... This will be your /last/." 

Daniel's eyebrows lower, about to ask what that exactly means when, hilariously, ominously, stomping can suddenly be heard approaching from behind the cellar door. 

They lock eyes, both with fight-or-flight instincts running hot from the unexpected interruption, and see, in the clarity of the lit-up lizard brain, that they would /not/ depend on the other in a fight. They are not allies. And never will be. 

"And, that's my cue," Dr. Fell responds smoothly to the faintly hurt look of realization on Daniel's face. He had thought he'd been /making a friend/, Hannibal coos mentally over the fragile little bird. "I will not see you again, Daniel. Remember," he throws over his shoulder as he grasps his traveling cloak and exits the front door in a swirl of dark fabric over his shoulders, "/Welcome him./" 

Daniel turns with some trepidation to where the stomping has crescendoed and stopped. The mysterious doctor times his exit so that Rorschach's foot hitting the doorknob from the inside covers the slam of the front door as he disappears into the storm of wind and hail that Rorschach must be here to take shelter from, at least partially. 

Daniel slides sideways out his chair and has gotten one hand on it to raise it threateningly when the door slams open and his worst fears are confirmed. 

His shoulders droop of their own accord and he tries not to place a hand on his chest and sigh with relief. The horrific stench of unwashed human is palpable, familiar, as is the way said human keeps to the edges of the room as he prowls about the kitchen like the world's most anti-social landlord, opening cabinets and sliding around dishes, heedlessly knocking things off the shelves. 

Daniel catches two dishes without complaint; the third is too many. He snaps at the still-fully-dressed vigilante who barely pauses in his explorations at the shout. 

Barely.

Daniel sighs, rubs at his forehead, mumbles something that sounds like an apology, and gestures towards the new location of the sugar bowl. The bowl no longer contains individually-wrapped cubes, but sugar the consistency of sand. 

Stumped for a moment, Rorschach nevertheless rolls up the bottom of his mask and summarily inserts a heaping spoonful of the stuff into his mouth, masticates it consideringly before swallowing it whole. He places the dirtied spoon back into the bowl and repeats the gesture matter-of-factly. 

Daniel isn't sure why he imagined being surprised at that. Surprise is the furthest thing from his mind right now. And the mysterious Dr. Fell has a good point. Familiarity, like /this/, that doesn't feel /stifling/, but invigorating... /That/ has been rare.

And so, wordlessly, permissively, their story begins anew, too close to its ending for anything but indiscretion, whereas elsewhere, only a few hours' drive away, another man's story races towards its beginning, far too close at his heels for anything but violence.

**

Having had contact with Rorschach again /before/ the catalyzing event tips the scales, Antarctica plays out differently. 

He feels a little humiliated when Laurie attempts to undress him in his own living room, but not for the reasons she thinks he does. 

They have a short conversation about the inevitability of certain people in one's life. 

Dan mentions Rorschach tearing up the stairs and /drinking/ half his sugar bowl. After that, he'd bought a whole 10-pound bag of the cubed kind for him. 

Laurie's first thought is, "When will you buy /me/ a gift?" and her second thought is, "Jon could give me a /planet./" She's horrified at herself in the next moment, but the thought has been planted. 

Rorschach leaves a bottle of Nostalgia on Dan's dresser when they finally arrive home. Veidt Enterprises doesn't sell that kind any more. 

When they are both very old, by their standards, by their profession's standards, older than Hollis was when he was murdered by his own strays, Daniel buys a whole case of Coke in green glass bottles. Walter drinks the whole thing in a matter of hours. He unplugs his insulin pump and takes Daniel to bed. He expresses the wish that he would die there. Daniel buries his face in Walter's shoulder and prays to Jon, /not yet./


End file.
